


you and me babe, how about it

by truejaku (hereonourstreet)



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 05:42:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1767586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereonourstreet/pseuds/truejaku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of select Kouao (and one Ren/Beni!) fics that I did as a test-run commission for SewSewDef! PLUS a link to my commission info B)</p>
            </blockquote>





	you and me babe, how about it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SewSewDef](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SewSewDef/gifts).



> [fic 1] Mizuki has to to help (and refuse to help) navigate Koujaku and Aoba's somewhat rocky first problem (not angsty just silly)  
> [fic 2] Beni is insistent that he and Ren spend some time together the way their owners spend time and they enlist Noiz's help to open a Rhyme field to do just that (also fluffy)  
> [fic 3] Aoba and Koujaku have to take care of Mizuki's nephew for the day and end up at the park where they met  
> [fic 4] complete NSFW smut that's literally all it is

            You are not surprised when Koujaku and Aoba pull you away from your own party at Black Needle by your shoulder, ignore your protests and questions, sequester you to a corner by the bathrooms, and “reveal” to you that they’ve been dating for the past couple months. When you nod in understanding, they seem a little bit confused, if not disappointed, and you realize they thought they were doing a particularly great job at keeping it under wraps, so you stop nodding and shout, “ _Oh! You mean dating like, romantically! I had no idea!”_ Aoba frowns at you and tells you to stop trying to humor them. You apologize.

            Koujaku aggressively whispers that you can’t tell a soul and you agree, of course, though you’re not entirely sure who would mind. You thought they were dating a few years ago really, until Koujaku’s penchant for women really picked up and you realize they were not, in fact, romantically inclined toward each other. And that was confusing. Aoba tells you with a blush he’s not sure he’s ready to be in an explicit relationship with another boy and Koujaku insists, his eyes on the ceiling, that Beni Shigure would riot if they found out. You doubt that very much. But there’s not much you can say so you pat them both on the back and agree, of course, you’re not going to tell anyone. When you ask why they decided to tell you, they stare at you like you’ve grown another head.

            “What?” you smile. “What did I say?”

            “We told you because you’re a mutual friend,” Koujaku tells you, his brow stitched.

            “Of course – ” you start, aware now that it’s quite obvious why they told you.

            “And if we need to talk to someone, we know we can come to you,” Aoba interrupts.

            “And you’ve known us for a long time,” Koujaku adds.

            “And we trust you – ” Aoba continues, but you throw your hands up.

            “I get it now,” you tell them. “I’m not going to tell anyone.”

            And you don’t. But you’re still not sure how much it really matters around here; Dry Juice has never seemed to have a problem with keeping their noses out of other people’s sex lives, and Beni Shigure is full of secret saps who care far too much about pleasing Koujaku. Maybe it’s harder for them to see; they _are_ the ones with the most to lose, of course, so you keep it to yourself. And it’s not a problem for the most part, though there have been moments where you’ve almost let it slip when Koujaku is out on a dance floor or sitting at a bar with a woman and Aoba is nowhere to be seen. A few members of Beni Shigure always spur him on, always catcall him and his lady from your table, and when you discourage it, Koujaku shakes his head at you. He leaves with his arm around her a few minutes later and you frown. You don’t see him until the next afternoon when he comes into Black Needle. It’s relatively dead so you get up from the front desk and get behind the bar, make him a drink, and immediately tear into him.

            “So you don’t think you went too far last night?” you ask as you push the glass threateningly toward him. He’s always been the one to hang out with you, he’s always been more interested in the same things as you, but technically, you knew Aoba first. And you’re not going to let either of them hurt each other.

            “What?” he takes the glass but doesn’t drink; he simply stares into the liquid without even making eye contact. He seems depressed.

            “With the girl? Leaving with her? Aoba doesn’t mind that?”

            “What? No,” he says, finally looking up at you nonchalantly. “I didn’t leave with her, I got her a cab.”

            “Good,” you say, relieved. “Still, do you really think you need to be getting that close to other women when you’re out?”

            “Apparently,” he mutters.

            “What? What does that mean?”

            He leans back on the stool and then downs the drink in one swift gulp. He bites back against the bitterness and shoves the tumbler back at you. You grip it in your fingers but continue to stare at him. You’ll make him another drink once he explains.

            “Apparently I’m not doing _enough_ ,” he says, staring up at you from under his bangs. “Aoba practically pushes me into their arms when we’re out together. It’s like he doesn’t want to be with me at all.”

            “Oh,” you say quietly. You weren’t expecting that. It suddenly dawns on you that if this doesn’t work out, your social life is going to become very awkward.

            “We still have sex,” he continues.

            “Oh,” you say, much louder this time. “Okay. Well. That’s great for you.”

            “But I don’t think he wants to be with me.”

            “Well,” you pause to think while you make him another drink and then hand it to him. “Is he the kind of person to have sex with you anyway? Even if he didn’t want to be with you?” You’re not sure. You don’t know Aoba in that way. And you’re not really curious either, so you hope Koujaku keeps the intimate details to himself.

            “No,” he drawls miserably. “He’s only just gotten over being too embarrassed to ask for it when he wants it. I don’t think he’d initiate it if he didn’t want to.”

            “Then I doubt it’s anything to do with the relationship,” you say. “Just tell him you don’t feel comfort – ”

            “I just want to be a real couple,” he interrupts, leaning toward you and whispering loudly. “I want to – you know – come out, or whatever you call it. I’m so sick of sneaking around. I love him so much.”

            You can’t help it when your lips press together and quirk up at a corner into small smile. That’s cute. You’ve always known Koujaku loved Aoba. You’re starting to think that you knew that before Koujaku knew that. You _definitely_ knew it before Aoba did. You were filled with envy the day they told you how they’d met; you don’t know anyone still from your childhood. You can only imagine how intense and well practiced their storied relationship is.

            “Why don’t you just tell him that?” you ask. He rolls his eyes at you.

            “I just told you,” he says, leaning back in his seat. “He doesn’t even seem to want to be with me. If I told him I wanted to be public, he’d probably break up with me.” He looks down at the drink and swirls his finger in it. “This was probably such a bad idea. I probably ruined our friendship by admitting all this shit to him.”

            You’re not sure what ‘all this shit’ entails, but you know Koujaku and you can imagine it was pretty embarrassing. It makes you laugh a little but when he glares at you, you stop and tilt your head to think for a moment.

            “I don’t know Aoba as well as you do,” you say, “but he doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would stick around with someone he didn’t want to be with. He’s kind of temperamental, you know?”

            “I know, it’s really cute,” Koujaku coos and you frown at him.

            “Okay, so, just talk to him,” you tell him. You honestly can’t wrap your head around how little the people you know communicate with each other.

            Koujaku whines, low and gravelly, and you roll your eyes at him. He ends up having enough to drink that he leaves the bar a bit more confident about his conundrum, though you’re a little worried about letting him go back to Aoba that inebriated. Whatever. He can take care of himself.

            You sort of forget about it for the next two days. You don’t hear from Koujaku and he doesn’t come around but the conversation comes rushing back to you when Aoba walks in one afternoon, Ren asleep and tucked under his arm and his bag hanging loosely across his chest. He seems a bit nervous, which strikes you as a bit odd and when he finally spots you he comes rushing toward you, takes a seat at the same exact stool Koujaku was in two days ago and when he looks at you with his big, pitiful eyes, you fear that your advice wasn’t too helpful.

            “What’s up?” you ask immediately, leaning down onto your forearms and looking him in the eyes.

            “I didn’t know who else to go to,” he says. You nod.

            “That’s fine,” you tell him. “What’s wrong?”

            “I think Koujaku wants to break up.”

            You hang your head between your arms in frustration and take a deep breath. Aoba thinks you’re reacting to him and continues:

            “He came home drunk two nights ago and wouldn’t talk to me. And then yesterday he was antsy and kept avoiding me. Every time I tried to talk to him he would blow me off.” He looks away, his lips thin and his brow furrowed, as if he’s sort of angry or embarrassed. “I’m only telling you because you’re the only one I can tell,” he adds under his breath. You pick your head back up and look at him wide-eyed.

            “That’s so charming,” you say sarcastically.

            “I didn’t mean it like that,” he pouts, meeting your gaze again. “I’m just – ”

            “Embarrassed?”

            He doesn’t answer right away. You stay silent, determined to make him speak first and finally he takes a deep breath and admits:

            “I’m not embarrassed about telling you. I’m embarrassed that… I thought,” he stutters, “I thought I might – ask if he wanted – to go – to come out, or whatever you call it, but – ”

            He keeps talking but you drop your head a second time and rub the back of your neck as he rattles on about love and shame and Rib teams and you pick your head back up and look him in the eye.

            “Stop,” you interrupt him. “You just really need to talk to your stupid boyfriend.”

            “What do you mean?”

            You squint at him. You’re not going to get in the middle of their relationship. You’re determined to make them work this out themselves.

            “Koujaku can be a real idiot, you know,” you tell him. He nods without skipping a beat, which makes you laugh lightly. “Aoba, talk to him about it.”

            “There are other problems,” he says. “What if everyone reacts badly?”

            “Then you tell them they can take it up with the biggest Rib team on the island,” you say, your voice low and serious. Aoba smiles.

            “Are you sure?”

            “Of course. _Talk to him_.”

            “I just don’t know if he feels the same way.”

You do. You know so well and you want to grab his shoulders and scream, but you swear to yourself you will hold strong.

“Come on. He loves you, doesn’t he?”

            Aoba scowls and mutters that he has to go. This is what you meant by ‘temperamental’ but before he jumps off his stool and leaves, he thanks you for listening. You can’t reply before he’s halfway to the door and gone. You turn to your right to see if anyone else caught that behavior but no one was paying attention. You slap the bar and shake your head at your weird fucking friends.

            You’re expecting a big display. You figure Koujaku will get drunk, stand up on your bar and announce that he’s dating Aoba and expect everyone to cheer. You think whatever he does, Aoba will blush furiously, yell at him, stalk out of the room. You’re really expecting a lot from the eventual reveal, but almost a week passes and there’s no mention of the two. You poke around a bit, asking a few Dry Juice and Beni Shigure members if they’ve heard from Koujaku, figuring if he had proclaimed his undying love for his best friend while you weren’t around, someone would at least tell you about it.

            No one says anything. They shrug, say they haven’t seen either of them in a few days and you wonder if they both backed out. You suppose you can’t blame them. It must be a stressful decision, and though you know Dry Juice and Beni Shigure wouldn’t mind, the island isn’t the friendliest place in general.      

            It’s a Friday night that you see them next. They walk in the door together and get a few drinks together; they sit together and they talk together; they stand up and watch a drinking contest together (Koujaku rolls his eyes when Dry Juice drinks Beni Shigure under the table but you’re like a proud father; a proud father of alcoholics). When a girl hits on Koujaku, he seems to rebuff her. He nods his head at Aoba and you wish you knew what he was saying. Aoba knocks his hip into Koujaku’s and you watch the tips of your friends’ fingers find each other. They’re low, positioned at their waists, but they intertwine slowly, until they’re wrapped around each other and you get the feeling nothing is going to tear them apart.

            Then Koujaku brings Aoba’s hand to his lips and he kisses the back of it. A few people notice; they hardly react. Just as you suspected. Most people already knew.

            Aoba pulls his hand away and yells at him, turns on his heel and runs away. Koujaku follows him. You were wrong. There is one thing that could tear them apart. Thankfully, that thing is Koujaku and you’re pretty sure he’ll figure it out.

            But you’re not worried at all about a half an hour later when you walk in on them making out at one of your tattoo stations – except maybe the cleanliness of your parlor now.

 

* * *

 

 

            Ren won Noiz over with, _“Koujaku would not be pleased,”_ and it was less that he was eager to upset Koujaku; it wasn’t even that he was keen to go online and try to imitate Aoba and Koujaku’s relationship. It had a lot more to do with the fact that he off-handedly suggested Rhyme as a place where he and Beni could spend time together outside the confines of their Allmate bodies, and Beni, at first, protested, Rhyme being the antithesis of his and his owners’ beings, but quickly warmed up to the idea after accompanying Koujaku and Aoba on a few more dates. It mostly had to do with Beni’s shrill insistence that they give it a try, having never been in Rhyme himself, so that he can at least say he’s speaking from experience when he throws it under the bus from now on.

            Of course, there was no logistical way to get into Rhyme without a battle, and they both knew neither Aoba nor Koujaku would like that very much, not to mention that they were hoping to do this all under the table. Ren’s still not entirely sure what Beni’s motivation is, other than that he’s always wanted to see his online mode and spend some time with Ren the way Koujaku spends time with Aoba. Ren doesn’t understand why it means so much to him, when they can be together in the real world, but he certainly wouldn’t have minded if the shrill complaints stopped, so he was willing to try anything.

            And Noiz came through for him, opening a technically illegal field in a sequestered corner of the old Ruff Rabbit territory and letting them in. Noiz was able to open Rhyme battles since the demise of Toue and Usui, and said he could play with the guidelines a little, though allowing to Allmates in for a secret rendezvous was unquestionably against the rules. When he told Ren this, Ren detected a more a sense of delight in breaking said rules than a scolding for asking him to do so.

            And so Ren sits quietly in a Rhyme field, the quietest one he’s ever navigated, and he sees Beni for the first time not as a bird but as a slender young man dressed in crimson and cream, beads and a kimono, almost identical to Koujaku, and the first thing he does is roll his shoulders back and let his long sleeves fall down the length of his arms.

            “Why are the sleeves so damn long?” he grumbles before turning his face away. Ren studies the Rhyme field; he does have strange memories of these places but they never quite materialize in full. He’s transfixed on the pulsating lights to his right when he feels Beni’s presence to his side.

            “Hm?” he asks, turning to him and noticing his face only inches away from his.

            “What’s underneath that thing?” Beni asks, poking Ren’s headband.

            “My face,” Ren says. Beni lifts it up with his fingers and squints as he looks into Ren’s eyes for the first time as humans. Beni’s eyes are a bright gold and they look just as angry and inquisitive as they do as a cardinal. His hair is a vibrant red against his tanned skin and he really is every inch his owner; though there’s a certain uniqueness to him that Ren can’t put his finger on. He’s Beni. That’s the best Ren can do.

            “I wasn’t expecting such a supermodel,” he drawls sarcastically. “You’re nearly three feet taller than me!”

            “That’s an exaggeration,” Ren tells him. His face is still hovering close to his but Ren doesn’t feel uncomfortable. Beni huffs in exasperation.

            “You’re some buff tough guy in Rhyme but the fluffiest dog I’ve ever seen as an Allmate,” he complains. “Why am I still tiny?” He illustrates his point by rolling his sleeves up again and finally pulling his face away.

            “I understand the feeling,” you say, nodding downward toward your robe.

            “Why don’t you just take it off?” Beni asks.

            “There’s nothing underneath but jeans,” Ren tells him. Beni shifts awkwardly.

            “That’s fine,” he mumbles just before he turns to Ren and leans in to give him a swift kiss on the cheek. Ren is startled, his eyes wide and lips split apart when he looks over at his friend, who’s face is now as red as his hair but he refuses to break eye contact.

            “What was that?” is all Ren can say.

            “A _kiss_ , dumbass!” Beni shouts. He presses his lips together tightly as he scowls and it finally dawns on Ren that Beni wanted to _imitate_ Aoba and Koujaku’s relationship, not as humans but –

            “Oh,” he says, staring at his friend. “Is that what you wanted to do here?”

            “Not if you don’t want to!” Beni shouts again. “Jeez!”

            Ren furrows his eyebrows and considers it. The idea of kissing Beni is – not entirely repulsive to him. In fact, it doesn’t turn him off at all, he’s just never thought about it before. He’s not sure exactly how strongly he can truly feel for Beni, given that they are both technically Allmates, but he does know that if he brings that up right now, Beni will continue shouting.

            He leans over and, his chin pressing against his own shoulder as pushes his lips against Beni’s, who gives a small squeak before relaxing and returning the kiss quietly. He pulls his legs around and grips his own ankles as they hold the kiss for several seconds and when he finally pulls away he looks over his shoulder and grunts.

            “Maybe we should just do more next time,” he says, his voice quieter than Ren has ever heard it. “I need to get used to this body first.”

            Ren smiles and lays down on his back, giving Beni a few minutes to collect himself and wraps his arm around him when he leans down too, resting his head on his chest. Beni snakes his arm over Ren’s torso as well and that’s how they lay, in silence, until the Rhyme buzzer sounds and Noiz brings them back, though Ren decides he’s a lot more interested in returning there with Beni than he thought he would be.

 

* * *

            Mizuki stopped by Koujaku’s apartment early on Saturday morning. They’d been expecting him, but not that early. They’d been expecting Jun, but not while they were still wiping the sleep out of their eyes. Mizuki handed them a bag, mostly filled with snacks and movies, and a list of phone numbers. He high-fived Jun and gave the tired couple a smirk.

            And that was it. Then he just – left.

            “I don’t know anything about kids,” Koujaku whispers to Aoba the second the front door is shut. Aoba frowns.

            “Then why did you say we’d take his nephew for the day?”

            “How do you say no to Mizuki? Do you want to tell Mizuki no? How about next time _you_ can be the one to say no to Mizuki, how about that?”

            Aoba glares at him. It’s a warning look. But Koujaku knows he’s right; no one has the audacity to say no to Mizuki. Not to mention he owes him one – or two or three or five – probably eight favors at this point, but whatever. Koujaku watches his boyfriend turn to the boy – Koujaku isn’t even sure how old he is – and lean forward, his hands on his knees, and smile.

            “Have you eaten already today, Jun?”

            Aoba can be kind and sweet with children, and it’s one of Koujaku’s favorite things to watch. Sometimes he’ll look to someone else for help, but on the whole, Aoba can really hold his own. On the other hand, Koujaku isn’t great; he tends to get nervous about saying the wrong thing and anxious that he’s ruining them for life just by being in the same room as them.

            He’s admiring Aoba’s reluctant enthusiasm when Jun shoves past him, running toward Ren, who’s in sleep mode on the vanity outside the bedroom, screaming, _“Puppy!”_ Aoba stumbles, catches himself, and then looks at Koujaku before turning and heading Jun off at the counter.

            “That’s not a real puppy,” he says, putting his arm out to stop him. “That’s an Allma—”

            Koujaku can’t seem to find his feet to help as Jun reaches out and throws Aoba’s arm out of the way and reaching again for Ren. Aoba in turn kicks his foot out to deter Jun, who trips over them and grips the edge of the vanity for leverage. Aoba picks Ren up off the table and hands him to Koujaku, who takes him silently and watches as Aoba leans down again, puts his face to Jun’s and tilts his head forward.

            “I said that’s not a real puppy,” he repeats, his voice much lower and his pupils narrowing to slits. “Keep. Your hands. Off him.”

            Aoba can be kind and sweet with children, but Koujaku suddenly recalls the three kids that like to terrorize Heibon, and suddenly worries that maybe Aoba isn’t the most unbiased babysitter in the world. Maybe he’s in over his head. He checks his Coil quickly. It’s only seven-thirty.

            By eight o’clock, Koujaku manages to sit Jun down at the kitchen table long enough to distract him from Ren, though he’s not sure how long he’s going to be able to keep him there. Aoba takes the seat across from Jun, narrows his eyes again and keeps his gaze fixed on him, and Koujaku worries that Jun has just made a very dire enemy this day. Jun may be a devil child, but Aoba can be ruthless when he’s angry, and Koujaku is now unsure that Aoba imposes any sort of age limit on those worth of his rage.

            Koujaku puts down two cups of coffee, one in front of Aoba and one in front of Jun. Jun peers into the cup and then stares at Koujaku.

            “What is this?”

            “Coffee.”

            “You can’t give a baby coffee, Koujaku,” Aoba says suddenly. Koujaku stares at him.

            “What? Why not?”

            “It’s gross,” Jun complains.

            “Babies can’t have caffeine,” Aoba tells him, looking at Koujaku as if he should already know this. Koujaku frowns.

            “I’m not a _baby_ ,” Jun shouts, thrusting his face toward Aoba and crossing his arms. If that’s a threat, it’s a fairly adorable one.

            “You’re like, two years old!” Aoba tells him. Jun kicks his feet forward.

            “I’m _six!”_ he yells. Six, right, okay. That’s good to know. Then he jumps off the chair, knocking the table hard enough to slosh the coffee out of the cup and heads for the front door.

            “Hey!” Koujaku shouts, running after him and grabbing him by the back of his arms. “What are you doing?”

            “I’m bored!” he shouts, going limp in Koujaku’s grasp and forcing him to bend at the waist to keep a hold of him. Koujaku looks around helplessly before he hears Aoba’s voice:

            “Let’s take him to the park and let him run it all out,” he suggests apathetically from behind him and Koujaku suddenly feels like he’s taking care of two children.

            He makes a deal with Jun that if he can sit quietly and watch TV for thirty minutes, he’ll take him to the park. He forgets that six-year-olds have no sense of time, and two minutes into his shower, Aoba is knocking on the door and demanding that he come back out and help tame him, and Koujaku has no idea what Aoba expects from him, but he drags himself back out of the shower anyway, hair sopping wet and still cold. The water never had a chance to really heat up.

            He makes his way back out into the living room and sees Aoba holding one of his swords.

            “What is happening?” he asks suddenly, spotting Jun lying face down on the floor.

            “He’s mad that I won’t let him play with the _very real, very sharp swords_ ,” Aoba says, turning to Jun to shout the last few words at him, and Jun screams into the floor, kicking his feet up. “And so he does that in retaliation.”

            “Okay,” Koujaku says, heading toward Jun and delicately putting his fingers on his shoulders. “Why don’t we just go on out to the park. You can run around and do whatever you want there.”

            Jun lifts himself off the floor and stares at Koujaku. He sees a tiny bit of Mizuki in his eyes and he’s never felt more uncomfortable.

            It’s almost nine-thirty by the time they get to the park and Koujaku is happy to simply sit on a bench with Aoba and watch that Jun doesn’t hurt himself or anyone else. He’s not sure it’s admirable of him to turn Jun loose on the world, but he doesn’t know if he can take another ten minutes of him poking Aoba’s hips to rile him up or stepping on the back of Koujaku’s sandals and then sobbing out a disingenuous, _“I’m didn’t mean to!”_

“We are never doing this again,” Aoba mutters as he finally takes a seat next to Koujaku, having explained very carefully the rules of the playground to Jun. Koujaku is sure they included, _“Don’t hurt anyone, don’t hurt yourself so that we have to fix it, and don’t tell your uncle that we told you to play until you dropped.”_ He sighs and rests his arms around the back of the bench.

            “It’s not even lunchtime,” Koujaku says. “Mizuki won’t be back until four.”

            “Maybe we can take him to Heibon,” Aoba mutters. “Maybe he’ll give the three brats a run for their money.”

            “…They’d probably just team up against you.”

            “I know,” Aoba groans, leaning forward and burying his face in his hands. Koujaku rubs his back slowly as he gazes at the playground; it’s a lot different than when he and Aoba used to run around here and his chest swells when he thinks about it.

            “Remember when we were Jun’s age?” he asks. Aoba looks up quickly and glares at him.

            “I was never his age,” Aoba tells him. Koujaku grins.

            “Yes you were,” Koujaku says. “When you were six, I was what, hippo?”

            “Shut _up_ ,” Aoba says, shoving him harshly with his hip. Koujaku laughs loudly, wraps his arms around him tightly and hugs him despite his protests. Aoba finally wrestles away and pouts, crossing his arms and staring straight ahead. Koujaku lets him stew for a few seconds and then leans in, puts his lips to Aoba’s ears and says:

            “With how you’re acting right now, it’s like you’re still six,” he says with a smile and Aoba knocks him with his shoulder again.

            “You know, I was looking forward to four o’clock,” Aoba says quietly, “not just because Mizuki would take this brat home, but because then we’d be alone.” He turns around and presses his lips softly against Koujaku’s, which is surprising, because Aoba is hardly one for public displays of affection. “But if you’re going to keep giving me a hard time…”

            “Oh,” Koujaku muses, “isn’t holding that against me sort of childish?”

            Aoba smirks and squints his eyes as he stares at Koujaku.

            “You are on very thin ice,” he says softly and Koujaku knows he’s bluffing.

            “I’ll take my chances, hippo,” Koujaku says, resting his hands on either side of Aoba on the bench and returning his gaze.

            “Not here,” Aoba says, and his voice has raised a few octaves into anxiety, so Koujaku smirks and pulls away, but puts his arms around him and pulls him closer, cuddling him on the bench, his chin resting on Aoba’s head. Aoba usually hates this but maybe he’s so exhausted by Jun already that he doesn’t have the strength to protest.

            He watches the few present children running around the playground; Jun seems to be getting along just fine with two other boys, and while Koujaku keeps an eye on him, his mind wanders to his childhood and the first time he ever met Aoba. He can’t believe it was only a few feet away from this exact spot that he first saw Aoba, tiny and drowning in his coat, shuffling his feet and staring at the ground as some much larger boys shoved him back and forth and tugged on his hair. Koujaku remembers how instinctual it felt, to step in defend this poor kid; he had long hair, just like Koujaku’s mother’s, and he felt indebted to save it. He remembers thinking the other boys weren’t any bigger than he, and he doesn’t realize that his grip is tightening against Aoba’s arms until he grunts in protest.

            “That hurts,” he says, extracting himself from Koujaku’s hold, and pulling away. “What are you doing?”

            “Sorry,” Koujaku smiles. “I was just thinking about when we first met.”

            “Oh,” Aoba says softly, looking at the ground.

            “How different things would be if I had never met you.”

            “I know,” Aoba says. “ _We_ know. We’ve talked about this. Do we have to go over this again?”

            He’s not annoyed. He’s sad. He knows the despair this entire story entails and hates it when Koujaku brings it up. He looks up at him from under his bangs and he looks like the little kid Koujaku stood up all over again.

            “I’m just worried,” Koujaku blurts out, frowning at himself as he does so.

            “About what?”

            Koujaku looks away. He didn’t mean to say that and he isn’t sure he wants to have this conversation.

            “About _what_?” Aoba asks again, inching toward him and wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Koujaku sighs.

            “What if I’m like my dad?”

            There are times when he can only think about the day he lost himself and consequently his mother, or the day at Oval Tower when he almost hurt the only other person he ever truly loved, and it always comes back to the inevitability that he can never truly contain himself; that he’s promised to this life of constant questioning if it’s really safe to let himself close to other people. He’d like to have a family, but he’s not sure he deserves it; he’s not sure if Aoba deserves to have to worry about raising one with someone like _him_.

            “You’re _not_ like him,” Aoba says quickly, pulling him from his thoughts. His voice isn’t even gentle. It’s not angry either; it’s just firm and he tugs on Koujaku’s neck, pulling his head back and giving him a kiss.

            “I am so scared to be around this kid,” Koujaku admits. “I don’t want to be a bad influence.”

            “You’re _not_ ,” Aoba insists. “I know it’s never going to be easy for you, but you’re not your dad, especially because you don’t want to be. That means a lot.”

            Koujaku smiles and Aoba plants another kiss on his lips and then turns around and nestles his back against him, cuddling into him again and Koujaku smiles, squeezes him in his arms and says, “So you think one day we can have kids?”

            Aoba grunts.

            “I think one day _you_ can have kids,” he grumbles. “I don’t know who you’re having kids with, though.”

            “ _You_ , you idiot,” Koujaku smiles against his ear and Aoba shoulders him away. They bicker for another hour or so, until Jun tumbles over to them, his clothes rumpled and dirtied, but no worse for the wear, and falls to the ground at their feet.

            “I’m _tired_ ,” he says.

            Koujaku isn’t sure that he has ever seen Aoba look quite so smug or self-righteous in his entire life when he leans down and says, “ _Oh_ , are you? You want to go home and take a nap?”

            And that’s what they decide to do. When Jun falls asleep in Koujaku’s arms on the way home, he feels like maybe he could really do this. He could probably raise a kid. All he really needs is for Aoba to believe in him, and he knows he has that, no matter how insecure he gets in the meantime. Plus, he’s already pretty good at dealing with Aoba now, who’s making faces at the sleeping Jun as they walk, and he feels like if he’s already raising one kid, another one shouldn’t be too hard.

 

* * *

 

 

            The only thing you want Aoba to know is exactly what happens when you come home to your boyfriend naked and waiting in the bed sheets, but something tells you Aoba already knows. Aoba was counting on that.

            The first thing you do is drop your bag of hair products at the doorway, and the second thing you do is rush him; he’s blushing and self-conscious as he reveals himself to you but you’re going to show him there’s no need to be. Your kimono dips down and brushes against his chest and he shivers, pulls it down to your waist, and it feels like the first time you ever made love on his bed, all those months ago.

            You find the lube in the bedside drawer – sex has gotten so great ever since you discovered it – and coat your fingers as he sprawls himself on his back and brings his legs up, bent at the hip and at the knee. His face is _so red_ and sometimes you’re concerned that he still gets this embarrassed when he asks for sex, but he’s so fucking hot when he’s like this and that’s distracting enough. You put in your first finger and he cries out as always, but you let him get used to it as you circle around, immediately trying to find his prostate.

            “ _Does that feel good_?” you whisper against his ear and he nods, chokes out something like, _“Uh huh!”_ and you put the second one in and he wiggles against the sheets, pushing his ass onto them and into you and you ask if he’s already open, but he wants one more, so you put all three fingers in and circle them around. Every time you open them inside of him a little more, he strains against you, finally putting his arms around your shoulders and asking you to fuck him.

            You sit back on your haunches and coat your dick in more lube before you push into him, and he lets you in so readily – not physically but emotionally; he shouts your name when you enter him and you know that he’s not anywhere else but in this moment, with you, wanting you inside of him, and you only have to thrust a few times before you’re poking his prostate and he’s yelling, _“There – right there – more – right there – Koujaku—!”_ and you’re not going to stop until he comes all over himself – which only takes a few more minutes.

            He’s stopped keeping his voice down so much, ever since you asked him to let himself go, and you can tell he’s still embarrassed sometimes, but he screams and grabs the bedframe as he comes, pulling himself against it and pushing himself back onto your dick and it’s really just watching him let himself go like that makes you let go yourself, and you come inside of him, always comforted to know that you’re the only one doing this to him now, the only one that gets to, the only one that he lets do this to him. You’re the only one he wants and he’s the only one for you, and you make him relax as you get a washcloth to clean him up afterwards, which he always hates, but always lets you do. You cuddle him until he falls asleep in your arms; you inhale him until you fall asleep with your face buried in his neck. He only wants to be with you and that means more to you than anything else you know.


End file.
